The Muse
by opal aline
Summary: A winter walk proves to be inspiring for young artist, Bella.


I sigh in frustration, throwing my brush into the easel tray.

"Come on, you could use a break." Edward's warm breath tickles my ear and I feel his strong arms wrap around me.

This painting is proving to be my Waterloo. I wanted it finished by now, there's only a week till it's to be entered in the biggest regional competition in the state.

"Let's go for a walk, love."

I allow Edward to lead me from the room.

The snow is falling when we step outside. Huge, fluffy snowflakes dance quietly to the ground, covering everything in a blanket of white.

Edward laces his fingers through mine, pulling me to his side. I welcome the feel of his hand in mine.

We walk in silence, the only sound the crunching of our boots in the snow.

I breathe in deep, the icy air filing my lungs and clearing my head.

I know my painting will need to be scrapped, I'm hoping this walk will bring me a muse.

We walk amongst the snow laden trees till the crimson of twilight streaks the sky.

**~xx~**

Tingles burst across my skin as we step into our warm house from the frigid outdoors.

Edward chuckles softly as I stamp my feet, trying to return feeling to my numb toes.

"Colder out there then I thought it would be." Edward says, removing his coat and gloves.

"I'm going to start a fire, babe. Do you mind making me a cup of tea?" He gives me his sexiest smile, like I would ever deny him anything, but I always appreciate one of his smiles.

**~xx~**

I bustle around our small kitchen, setting teacups and shortbread on a tray till I hear the shrill whistle of the kettle.

After I pour the boiling water into a teapot and set it on the tray, I make my way carefully to the living room.

The snap and pop of flames on wood is the first thing to hit my senses.

My eyes search the dim light, landing on the prone form of Edward. He is sleeping soundly, nestled into the thick coat of the sheep skin rug that sets before our fireplace.

The flickering light of the fire dances across his peaceful features, taking my breath away.

I can feel the painting in my soul, even before it begins to form in my mind...my muse is lain out before me.

Carefully I set the tea tray down and hurry off to my art studio.

It takes several trips back and forth before I have all my supplies moved to the living room.

Each time I walk past Edward, I fear he will wake up, but he doesn't stir.

After meticulously setting up my easel, I lay out my pencils and paint brushes.

My eyes drink in the scene before me, my pencil at the ready to sketch an outline for my painting.

The scratch of my pencil on the canvas joins the crackle of the fire.

The outline of Edward's face quickly takes shape before me, paying special attention to get his jaw line just right.

My pencil mimics the lines of his body, moving down along his neck and over the rise and fall of his chest.

My breath hitches as I study his narrow waist and hips, taking care to capture the exposed area where his shirt has ridden up - giving me a peek-a-boo of his happy trail and one hip. My mouth fills with saliva and my face flushes as I think of running my tongue over that area.

I take a moment to stand back and look at my work. I like it so far and decide to keep this drawing a close up, only showing the upper half of his body.

I bring my attention to sketching his arms, they are raised over his head, one hand clutching the other. It takes me several tries to get his fingers just right.

Once again I stand back to take in my progress, noting the pleasing way his fingers lace together.

My eyes crawl down his body, taking in every detail, adjusting my sketch here and there. Now I take on the monumental task of drawing his hair. I keep my pencil light in my hand, using short strokes until the shape is just right.

His lips demand my attention next. My pencil follows the smooth curve of his upper lip, round the slight up turn at the corners to the plump softness of his bottom lip. Concentrating on his lips sets my mind to thinking of the last time they were on my skin, their silky smoothness sending waves of pleasure through my body.

Shaking my head, I pull myself from the day dreams beginning to bloom in my mind. After a deep breath to steady my hand I bring my pencil to the canvas, forming the shape of his nose.

My heart quickens when I move to draw his eyes. How many times have I looked into their glorious depths, seeing love and lust reflected there?

Carefully I draw the cressant of each of his eye lids, sketching heavily along his lash line. With a sure hand I painstakingly draw each eye lash fanned out across his cheekbone.

Pencil clasped in my teeth, I step back, taking in the full effect of my drawing.

After making a few adjustments here and there, I set aside my pencil and ready my paints.

Taking up my brush, I load it with paint and begin to fill in the sheep skin Edward lays on. After several minutes I have the wool looking plush and soft.

I turn my concentration to his skin, filling in his face, hands, neck and hip peek-a-boo with flesh colored paint.

His clothes are next and I quickly add white, black, red and gray, giving the clothing life.

Carefully I mix an auburn color and start brushing feather lite stokes across the canvas for his hair.

My eyes are becoming weary from working in the dim firelight, but I'm so close to finishing this painting - just a few details left.

I use the same auburn shade to fill in his eye brows and his side burns, lastly I paint the whispy hairs going from his navel and disappearing into his jeans.

Touching the smallest amount of purpple and gray to my brush, I add the veins that are visible along his wrists and across his forehead.

Then one by one I add is long, curling lashes where they lay softly on his face.

The staccato tap of my brush on the canvas adds to the sound of the crackling fire as I add the light stubble across his jaw and chin.

Last of all I place a touch of rosey pink on his lips.

One final look at my canvas and I sigh in relief...he's perfect.

My eyes rove the length of his body once more, from his feet all the way up to his eyes.

His eyes.

His eyes that are open now...watching me.

"How long have you been watching me?"

"A while." His voice is low, seductive.

He doesn't say another word, but his eyes speak volumes - fire burns in them.

His hand extends out toward me, beconing me to him.

Stepping around my easel I place my hand in his, never taking my eyes off his. He pulls me gently to him, guiding me down till I'm stradling him. His hands go straight to my hips, holding me firmly to him.

I feel his warm finger tips on my waist as his hands travel upwards underneath my shirt. He removes my shirt in one easy motion, tossing it to the side once it's over my head.

Edward's hands move down my body, cupping my lace covered breasts in his capable hands.

He still hasn't said a word, but there is no need, his desire and love are evident in his eyes.

He massages me untill I feel like melted chocolate on the inside and my body grinds against his of it's own accord. His breath comes hissing past his teeth when my center presses down on him, his hands clinging to my hips.

"Mmm, not too fast, love. I'm still playing."

In one swift movement he flips me, pushing my back into the plush sheep skin.

Edward kneels between my open legs, looking me up and down.

Reaching back, he takes my sock covered foot in his hand, stripping each of my socks from my feet. His long fingers wrap around my foot, his thumbs pressing into the arch, illicting a deep moan from me.

He continues his minstrations on first one foot, then the other, taking his time and dropping occasional kisses to my toes.

I'm the epitome of relaxation when I feel his hands sliding up my legs, until they reach the button on my jeans; sliding them down my legs in one smooth move. His hands ascend to my calves, massaging as he goes. When he reaches my thighs his hands slow, rubbing circles higher and higher...teasing the insides of my thighs. His fingers brush my center through the thin cloth, sending sparks through my body. He moves abruptly away, leaving me wanting. I wiggle toward him, hoping to gain contact. His hands pin my hips down, stopping my efforts. A sly smile crosses his face as his hands move higher, sliding up over my stomach...to my breasts and on up to my shoulders. His hands rub my shoulders deeply, easing tension I didn't realize I had. His hands leave my body, bracing one next to my head, the other runs into my hair as he dips down, kissing me hard.

He kisses me until I am breathless and I'm forced to pull away, taking in lungfuls of air.

"Turn over." Edward's breath tickles my ear as he whispers to me.

His lips descend on my neck as soon as I am face down, kissing and sucking, sending heated energy down my spine.

His hands move to my shoulders, massaging...his lips following the path of his hands.

My bra disappears from my body as soon as his fingers brush the clasp.

He caresses me with long, even strokes, from the base of my neck to the base of my spine - relaxing every muscle.

Slowly, his thumbs slide into the band of my panties, inching them down, his mouth pressing heated kisses to my legs from my hips to my toes.

Once I'm free of all clothing Edward once again whispers in my ear, "Turn over, love."

The sultry sound of his voice sends my internal thermostat skyrocketing, it drips with lustful promise.

I turn my body untill I'm on my back looking up at him in the soft glow of the firelight.

He now stands between my legs, sliding his arms from the black and red checked shirt he wears.

I smile up at him, in what I hope is a sexy way, as I'm aforded a view of my man stripping for me.

He pulls off his tee shirt next, slowly, revealing his skin a little at a time.

He knows what he's doing to me - I love looking at his chest...touching it...kissing it.

My fingers itch with longing...I want to touch him...no, I need to touch him.

I nudge the back of his calf with my foot, hoping he will speed up a bit.

A wicked grin is his answer to my impatience.

Next he begins pushing his pants down, his eyes never leaving mine.

Now that he's down to just underwear, he lowers himself over me. Kissing his way up my body, avoiding the places I really want him.

After several moments of him kissing around my breasts his mouth finally covers my breast, sucking it deep into his mouth - electricity shoots through me with the touch of his lips - setting me ablaze.

He moves from my chest, leaving me wanting till his mouth connects with mine, kissing me hard and deep.

My hands claw at the fabric of his boxers, needing to remove even the smallest barrier between us.

Dragging my hands up the taut muscles of his back, I press my fingers tightly against his skin...encouraging him to claim what's already his.

He pushes into me in one move...filling me...completing me.

I splay my hands across his back, loving the way his muscles flex under my finger tips as he picks up speed - thrusting...owning.

The sounds of our heavy breathing fill the air - our bodies sliding against the others.

The dance of our union fills my body...my heart...my soul.

As the fire in the fireplace dies, the fire in me builds; from small glowing embers to roaring flames till I'm molten lava...exploding like a volcano with euphoria.

Through my orgasmic haze I hear the sounds of Edward's satisfied groans, feeling his warmth fill me.

Edward shifts his weight to my side, pulling me snuggly against him. I run my fingers through the slightly dampened hair of his chest, enjoying the satisfaction of my all natural man. It's one of the things I love most about Edward, he lets his masculinity take it's course, no grooming or chest waxing for my man.

Waves of blissful exhaustion wash over me and my eyes begin to flutter shut.

The whispered words, "I love you," hit my ears as I drift to sleep.

**~xx~**

I try not to blush as the cameras flash around me - my painting has one first prize and the local newspaper plus several art magazines want a photo of me next to my work.

It wouldn't be so bad if it was just a couple photographers standing around me, but there must also be at least fifty women gathered around me as well.

The comments running through the crowd range from humorous to borderline pornagraphic. I'm really not enjoying hearing how much these women admire _my _Edward.

I feel a tap on my shoulder and a collective gasp runs through the crowd. I turn to see my beautiful husband standing behind me, a steaming cup of tea in his hand.

Looks of awe and envy follow me as Edward guides me through the crowd.

I throw a look over my shoulder, my painting catching my eye. I have to admit, I did do a good job, I captured his beauty well.

Smiling to myself I turn back around and continue walking with my man, those women can look all they want at my painting...I'm the one leaving with the real work of art.

**~The End~**


End file.
